


Alone and Palely Loitering

by tinypigs



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Angst, Canonical Character Death, Creepy, Horror, I'M REALLY NOT SURE THIS FIC IS STRANGE OK, M/M, Slash, a sad Derek, actually the creepiness may depend on you, but just in case, but no sexy times, dark!stiles, enchanted Stiles, forest, grimm's fairy tale influence, or to be more accurate, sorry - Freeform, sterek, village-esque
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-31
Updated: 2012-12-31
Packaged: 2017-11-23 02:09:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/616907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinypigs/pseuds/tinypigs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Do not go into the forest. For that is where the beasts lie.</p>
<p>Fairy tale AU. A boy and the woods. After a story, he is in thrall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alone and Palely Loitering

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure what I was thinking when I wrote this. I thought of fairy tales. And a poem by Keats called, "La Belle Dame Sans Merci" (hence the title). I really did get creeped out when I wrote this though. I'm not sure why yet though. And my word count increased xD But my tags are terrible. So terrible. As usual, my beta is tops-blooby.

_Do not go into the forest. For that is where the beasts lie._

Derek remembered reciting it as a child. The head of his village had made it mandatory for all children to repeat that phrase every day at school. And so, in his cold, austere schoolroom, at 8:10 sharp, Derek participated in that strange refrain with his classmates. The words themselves were printed into a poster (stark white letters on a black background) and nailed at the front of the classroom. His eyes had traced each letter whenever they spoke the phrase.

It was an odd warning to repeat. And whenever he left the schoolroom to walk to his warm home, he let it stay in his mind as he passed a part of the Fence. The Fence looped around the whole village. It was fortified with twisted. sharp metal wires and wooden planks. Its name pretty much summed up its function: to keep whatever was outside, outside.

Derek would only get to see small portions of the Fence though. The village head blocked off a lot of it, which was again, odd. But what Derek did see through the gaps in the Fence’s metal and wood was the forest.

It lurked, like some loathsome beast in the shadows. And it was strange to him, because so many of the stories that he read told of bright, beautiful woods. This forest was always cloaked in darkness.

His sister, Laura, was awfully tight-lipped whenever he asked about it. She would say something humorous to change the topic, and though she laughed, her eyes were wide with fright and her skin turned a shade paler.

So Derek went to his mother.

“Derek. Why would you want to know about it?” His mother refused to look at him. Her hands shook slightly as she folded a piece of origami paper (a hobby that his mother took up after his father died) at their dinner table.

“I... We always say those words at school. And I didn’t want to ask my teacher, she’s mean.” Derek looked down into his lap, swinging his knobby legs nervously.

His mother stopped her motions. She set the paper down and turned to look at Derek.

“Come here.” She pulled Derek into her lap.

Derek folded his knees and quietly rested his head against her shoulder, listening to her breathing.

“Once, there was a happy family.” She had rested her warm hand on his head right then, stroking softly.

“There was a strong father, pretty mother, and loving son. They all loved each other very much. But the father had to go away a lot for his work, and too often, the mother had to stay home to look after her son. 

The mother began to grow sick. It wasn’t a sickness that poisoned the body, but the mind. It ate at her and made her think bad things, but she kept it secret from her husband. She told her child of it though, and how she could not stay with him because of it. She weeped and held her boy close. To comfort him, she said to him, ‘Look for me in the forest.’ Back then, the forest wasn’t so bad.

The next day, she took her own life. Despairing of his wife’s death, the once strong father turned weak, and forgot about the world and most importantly, his only son. Their home became desolate and the son, who was once talkative, turned silent.

The next year, on the day of his mother’s death, the boy disappeared. His father woke from his loss and called for him. All of the village looked for the boy, but to no avail. Some time after the child’s disappearance, a fierce beast loped out of the forest. To protect themselves, the villagers killed it. When they examined the beast’s body, they discovered that it held a tattered red shirt in its teeth. And it was a calamity, for the boy who had disappeared had worn that shirt the day he had vanished.

The father wept fiercely but in his sorrow, warned the villagers to never go near the forest. He asked that the Fence be built. Many years later, the father was old and weary of the world. He regretted all that he had done to lose his family. Before the day he died, he saw something in the forest. A peculiar child, snow white, with great dark eyes had stared at him through the branches of the trees. It had gone as quick as he had seen it. The next day, he died. He was buried by the graves of his wife and son.

To this day, no one has ever seen the boy. And the forest has become dark and bitter.”

After the story, his mother fell silent, still stroking his head. And although her body was warm and comforting, Derek’s chest felt icy.

“Please, Derek. Don’t ask about it again.” She gently took him out of her lap and walked into the kitchen.

Derek mumbled, “Yes,” and looked at the table. The origami paper she had folded was an unfinished swan. It looked to Derek’s eyes, like a broken body. He had shivered and then run into the kitchen with his mother.

He had grown up since that time and no longer had to say the phrase anymore. The words were yet imprinted in his mind, but in the back of his head as a faint reminder. Now Derek had become a rather reclusive and pensive teenager, but other things concerned him. Namely, how to attract the attentions of one Kate Argent and pass Physics. Laura had graduated from school and was now working alongside their mother as a cook. Their mother, still beautiful and kind, now had some grey streaks in her hair.

“Hey Derek, let’s go to your house.” Kate had smiled at him then, all bright white teeth and red lips. She leaned into his body, caressing his cheek. Derek dimly realized that she smelled like roses.

One minute, he was closing his eyes to sleep. Kate was in his arms, and the setting sun was filtering through his open bedroom window. Then suddenly, he woke to the thick scent of smoke. Kate was awake as well, and she had looked at him with wide, scared eyes. They both dressed quickly and stumbled out of his house. They gazed with shock as the village’s only fire truck raced by, alarms blaring.

A knot formed in Derek’s throat, weighing down his limbs. He dreaded something. He didn’t want to think of it. He pushed Kate towards the direction of her home and shouted a goodbye. Then he ran after the truck.

He skidded to a halt in front of the restaurant that Laura and his mother had worked at. A crowd had formed around the area, and police were pushing people back. Derek gazed with horror at the restaurant. In its remains, a great fire razed.

“Gas explosion!” The police shouted at the crowd as an explanation.

Days later, when he was stuffed into a suit and forced to look at the wooden boxes that held his mother and sister, that explanation didn’t suffice.

It didn’t explain why his mother, with her kind hands and smile, and her sister, with her teasing punches and good jokes, had to die.

When the funeral was over, he yanked his tie off and flung his blazer on the wet grass of the village cemetery. He sat, hunched, in front of their graves, covering his eyes with his hands. At the beginning of the funeral, tears had flowed out from his eyes, searing his cheeks. Now his eyes were dry and red, but he didn’t want to see their graves.

He now lived with his uncle, Peter. The man was always good to Derek, but there was something cold beneath his eyes. His mother had kept away from the man, but since they lived together now, it was difficult to avoid him. And plus, he tended to follow him whenever Derek left to visit the cemetery.

So Derek went to the graves at night. It was more peaceful then anyways.

The year passed, and soon the day of their death came. There was a memorial service held by Laura’s and his mom’s friends, but Derek didn’t attend. He chose to go at night again. At ten o’clock, Derek said good night to Peter and went to his bedroom. He slept for two hours, and at twelve, woke up, stuffed his bed with pillows (it would fool Peter if he looked in, he hoped), and left his house through his bedroom window.

The night was brisk and the moon was bright. Derek stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets and jogged to the cemetery.

On the way, he passed a section of the Fence. Derek briefly glanced at it, then abruptly halted. The forest had been growing into the village’s borders, and a couple of tree branches poked through the Fence. Yet through the thicket of trees, Derek saw a pale figure. It was tall and tangle-headed.

Derek couldn’t move. He only watched as the figure moved quickly through the branches. Then, it stood by the trees closest to the Fence.

He couldn’t see its face, but he could see its body. And it was clearly a he. Derek flushed and forced himself to step back. The figure cocked its head at him. Then, it was gone.

Derek almost fell to the ground in relief. That chill he felt after his mother’s story from his childhood returned. After a minute, he pushed off the wet ground. He was determined to see Laura and his mom.

He sprinted this time, running away from his thoughts. Climbing over the gate that guarded the cemetery, he made his way to the graves.

He sat silently by them, gazing at the ground. All Derek wanted was to feel like he was near them.

Then it began. That prickling sensation at the back of his neck. Derek stiffened and summoning all his courage, turned.

“Peter?” Derek croaked.

His uncle stood behind him, silhouetted by the moon. Derek wouldn’t call it a smile, but since he had no other word for it, a smile lilted his uncle’s lips. His eyes were cruel though.

“Tell me, Derek. What would possess a teenager to visit a cemetery at night? When he could have gone during the day?”

His uncle stepped towards him. That smile wasn’t on his face anymore.

“Tell me, Derek. Why do you think you deserve to be here?” Another step.

Derek scrambled to his feet. That chill again.

“U-Uncle Peter.” Another step.

“Derek. My nephew.” Peter’s eyes changed. The coldness that Derek detected in him was at the surface.

It broke through.

Peter lunged at him. Derek turned and tried to run. Steel hands closed around his throat.

“TELL ME, DEREK. WHY ARE YOU ALIVE. WHY. WHY. WHYWHYWHYWHY.” Peter screamed, red-faced.

Derek pulled his fist back and punched his uncle. The man still held on.

“I couldn’t believe it. That she was dead. And that I had to take care of you.” Peter spat in his face and shook him. Terror fused into Derek’s limbs, and he fought harder, kicking and punching Peter’s side.

Still, he held.

“Derek, please. Just for me. Just for your uncle. Die.” Peter’s face suffused with warmth and this time, he smiled genuinely.

Derek tried to scream, he did. The hands that grasped his neck only allowed a strong wheeze. Red clouded the sides of his vision, and his hands scraped uselessly at Peter.

Peter began to cry while smiling, tears dripping down his face onto Derek’s mouth. Derek faintly registered the wetness as black began to filter into his vision. He could see Peter’s smiling face above him. And for some reason, he saw the pale figure standing behind Peter.

The hands were gone. Derek gulped the air, his eyes tearing and mouth gaping.

He could hear Peter’s body drop to the ground. And he heard footsteps draw near him.

A warm hand stroked his hair.

Half-delirious, Derek said, “Mom?”

Silence followed his question and an amused voice replied, “No. Stiles.”

The hand left his head, and Derek let the darkness consume him.

Before he completely went unconscious, he heard the voice whisper, “Look for me in the forest.”

A day later, Derek woke in a sunny hospital room. A nurse saw him and reported to the doctor, who called the police. The sheriff came to tell him that Peter’s mauled body was found by Derek. The police had concluded that some kind of animal had killed Peter.

Derek half-listened, eyebrows furrowed and eyes distant. The sheriff assured him that everything would be all right and patted his shoulder.

Derek was released a day later. His house was lonelier than ever and Derek found himself wandering more and more by the section of the Fence by the cemetery.

He didn’t see the pale figure again. He remembered his words though. They clung to him like a disease. And he recalled: _Do not go into the forest. For that is where the beasts lie._

Derek kept the words close to him, not telling the police or anyone at all. And so, another year passed. Derek graduated high school and worked on writing a book immediately after.

He shut himself in his home and didn’t take any calls. He only took breaks to wash, eat, or sleep. For several weeks, he didn’t leave his home until he finished it.

Then the night of his mother’s and Laura’s deaths came again. He neatly wrapped his thin book in plastic and put it in a box. He pulled on a jacket and made sure to leave the door to his home open.

This time, he took a slow walk to the cemetery, but he didn’t stop to look through the Fence.

At his family’s graves, Derek stood, stiff as a statue. With his eyes, he traced each letter of his mother’s name, then Laura’s.

“I’ll see you guys.” He closed his eyes briefly and then set the box on the ground. On top of the box, he left his house keys.

Then he walked back to the section of the Fence. Eyeing it critically, he looked for key spots to grip.

“Oh, fuck it.” he mumbled and began to climb. His palms scraped against rough wood and sharp metal in his ascent. Derek didn’t care though.

He was soon on top of the fence, and with a twist of his body, he fell on the other side. Apathetic to the pain, he descended into the forest.

His palms bled and his body was dripping with sweat. He ignored all of that and walked into the trees. For some time, he only heard the sounds of small animals and his own body.

He walked out into a grassy clearing though, and that was when everything turned silent.

Derek sat in the middle of the clearing and waited. He closed his eyes.

He didn’t wait for long.

A hand touched Derek’s face. Derek opened his eyes and looked.

A naked boy crouched before him, beautiful and light. His eyes were dark and quiet. A mess of hair crowned his head.

“My name’s Derek.”

The boy took his hand from Derek’s face and looked back at Derek. His lips quirked into a grin, full of sharp teeth.

“Hey Derek.”

 

 

The cemetery groundskeeper, a father of four, found Derek’s book and after reading it, kept it.

One night, around the hearth fire in his home, he gathered his children to read them the story.

“Once, there was a happy family...” he began to read.

The children smiled and listened closely, huddled around their father and the warmth of their fire.

 “With a kind mother, funny daughter, and serious son. They lived in a small home by a forest together. The mother was wise and taught her children much about the world and about being good to others. Her children heeded her words.

An evil man came to their happy home one night. He slew the mother and the daughter, but the son lived because his mother hid him. The evil man left their home, vowing to kill the son should he find him.

In his terror, the son fled his home, running into the forest. Exhausted after his escape, he fell asleep in a clearing. When he woke, he found another boy with him, small and pale.

‘Do you need help?’ The boy asked.

Frightened, the son nodded. The boy gazed at him and solemnly said, ‘I shall help you, but understand this, never return to this forest, for only beasts lie here.’

The strange boy grasped his hand and led him out of the forest.

‘Tell me what to do.’ The boy whispered.

After a moment of thought, he replied, ‘I wish to stop someone from doing evil.’

The boy asked who, and the son told him of the evil man. The strange boy looked at him again.

‘Remember, after I do this, never return to this forest, for only beasts lie here.’

The boy then vanished, leaving the son alone.

A moment later, he heard a cry of pain behind him. The son turned and saw the corpse of the evil man. The strange boy was nowhere to be found.

The boy returned to his home. And for many days, he stayed there.

Yet the thought of the strange boy held him, and so he returned to the forest.

‘Why are you here?’ The strange boy screamed when the son found him.

‘Aren’t you lonely?’ He quietly asked.

‘Yes, but-’

‘So am I.’ The son interrupted. They looked at each other once more. Then the strange boy nodded and held out his hand.

‘Come with me.’”

The groundskeeper closed the book and his children cried.

“That can’t be the end!”

He smiled and said, “Sorry!”

The children pouted and their father laughed. Their mother came in, fussing, and so they went to bed.

Before they went to sleep, their father came in to kiss them good night. After, he turned their room’s light off and shut their door. The children, safe and warm in their beds, fell asleep.

And far away, over the Fence and in the forest, two figures were intertwined. A pale boy and serious boy. Their hands were clasped together.

Stiles whispered to Derek, “I’m not lonely anymore.”

And Derek smiled in reply, sharp teeth gleaming.

 

_Do not go into the forest. For that is where the beasts lie._

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not entirely sure of what happened to Stiles here. He's this weird magical being?? Dunno.  
> If you would like to leave comments or kudos, awesome!! Or if you have questions, hit up my tumblr (which is in my author description I believe).  
> If you want to check out "La Belle Dame Sans Merci," here it is: http://www.bartleby.com/126/55.html  
> Keats is awesome.  
> edit: I have a writing tumblr if you have questions! It's theflyingpiggeh.tumblr.com


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